


please don't stay in touch

by theredvipers



Category: John Wick (Movies), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, more of my nonsense is anyone surprised, or that au where danny is viggo tarasov's son and benedict is actually a corleone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredvipers/pseuds/theredvipers
Summary: He turned to John as discreetly as he could from his place. John, who wasn’t as familiar with subtlety as Danny had always been, came to his side, and lowered his head to Danny’s level. No one seemed to mind, and Danny’s family wasn’t the one that held the seat, so Danny figured Dmitri wouldn’t mind if he asked John a quick question.“Who is that?” John followed his gaze, and Benedict–technically still Benedict–didn’t notice. If he did, he paid them no mind.“Vincent Corleone.” John replied, his tone implying that he would give Danny more information later.or: Danny Ocean, actually Daniil Tarasov, finds out that Terry Benedict is actually Vincent Corleone, heir to the Sicilian Seat of the High Table, and the latest victim to one of Danny's cons. It doesn’t end in disaster, to everyone’s surprise.





	please don't stay in touch

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmmmmm, so. No excuse. This massively fucks with all canon timelines but I’m just gonna pretend it doesn’t because that’s how it be sometimes. I also don’t know if the crime lords that hold a Seat in the High Table would be allowed to bring anyone to the meetings, but I went with it to have an excuse to write this. Maybe they can do it if not-super-important stuff is to be discussed? Anyways. Yeah. Not tagging The Godfather because Lord knows I've subjected more than enough folks to my bullshit.

Danny had been forced to attend the meeting because Viggo had a previous engagement with some business partners, and Iosef was too hungover to be of any help. His father had practically begged him to go, because, this time, the Ivanovs had extended the invitation. It wasn’t often that they did so, simply because they didn’t always need them there, but, from time to time, Dmitri (who was now the head of the Bratva) liked for the Tarasovs to be there as well, because their presence meant John Wick’s presence; a good reminder that someone that served them possessed a weapon that could destroy all those others who held Seats at the High Table if he was ordered to.

So Danny went, and although he’d insisted on just one bodyguard, John was the one that joined him. “I’d thought you’d be too busy to babysit.” Danny said as they drove to the meeting place. He’d forgotten the address already, but John knew it.

“Work is work,” John replied. “And whatever you don’t hear, I will.”

It was only natural to have John there, Danny guessed, because John was right; Danny had lost interest in his father’s family business since he’d pulled his first con and he’d never looked back. This was a favor to Viggo more than anything, and Danny would be gone again in a few days. If only Iosef actually cared about being the heir, Danny would already be well on his way to the next job; Viggo still grieved the heirs he’d seen in both, Danny and Debbie, but they’d both chosen a criminal lifestyle that didn’t quite match their father’s, and that had been better for everyone involved, in Danny’s opinion. Too american, he’d heard his father’s business partners say before, when Danny had been a teen and visiting Viggo on the weekends. Dmitri didn’t object him but Danny guessed that was because he was a hundred times more bearable than Iosef, who was the favorite of everybody else if only because his mother was Russian and his Russian wasn’t as accented as Danny or Debbie’s.

Danny hadn’t regretted his decision, but as John pulled up to the site of the High Table meeting, he was starting to regret not cutting off this side of the family. He groaned once he got out of the car.

“How long?” he asked John. They had to wait in some kind of lobby until the Ivanovs arrived.

“Sometimes they take the entire day. Sometimes two hours,” was John’s reply. “We’ll see.”

“Joy.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled as he greeted Dmitri and his entourage in Russian.

-

He turned to John as discreetly as he could from his place. John, who wasn’t as familiar with subtlety as Danny had always been, came to his side, and lowered his head to Danny’s level. No one seemed to mind, and Danny’s family wasn’t the one that held the seat, so Danny figured Dmitri wouldn’t mind if he asked John a quick question.

“Who is that?” John followed his gaze, and Benedict–technically still Benedict–didn’t notice. If he did, he paid them no mind.

“Vincent Corleone.” John replied, his tone implying that he would give Danny more information later. For all that John did not care about social niceties, he’d been to more High Table meetings than Danny had. These people respected John–and Danny would even dare say that they all feared the _Baba Yaga_ –but there was a protocol to be followed, and though John wasn’t one to always care for such things, he was a stickler to the rules when the moment demanded it.

Danny settled in his seat again, and tried to follow the line of conversation; something about someone trespassing on someone else’s territory. Dmitri didn’t look mad, so he guessed this was yet another fight between the Camorra and the Sicilian Mafia, and judging from the position Vincent–Benedict?–was seated at, he was affiliated with them. A high ranking member, at that. Not everyone sat next to Don Corleone. If Vincent had been of a lower rank, he would have been seated behind, the way Danny sat behind Dmitri.

 _Just who the hell did I steal from?_ He supposed he’d get his answer soon enough.

The meeting went as most High Tables meetings went: nowhere. Often, the issues discussed in it were left alone unless they really represented a threat.

“Waste of time, _da?_ ” Dmitri said to him as soon as he rose from his seat. Danny got up and followed after him. He wouldn’t leave yet; like most of those who held a Seat, he’d remain behind to drink and chat and make sure everyone knew to not mess with him because _Baba Yaga_ served one of the crime bosses of the Bratva. No one ever needed a reminder, but Dmitri liked those anyway, and it wasn’t like he would listen to Danny or John’s objections.

“Be thankful it was quicker this time. John tells me these can take hours and hours.” Danny replied. Dmitri sighed, and once they were close to the bar, asked him if he wanted anything. As always, the polite thing was to decline once, but he hoped Dmitri didn’t press the issue. He just wanted to leave before Vincent and him made a scene.

“Corleone,” John said, at his side. Danny turned his head towards John, enough so John could whisper in his ear in a way that didn’t look quite so secretive, but still discreet enough. “The heir to the Sicilian Seat. Viggo told you.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Viggo tells me a lot of things, John. Besides, the one that’s supposed to know these things is _Iosef_.”

John shrugged. “You have your answer.” He stared at Danny, the way he did when _he_ was the one who wanted an answer.

“Oh, I’m not telling you why I wanted to know.” Danny assured him. “Not yet, anyways. You’re gonna be mad. Maybe mad is not the right word. Impressed? Amused?”

John seemed to be anything but amused, “Daniil,” he warned, and it was rare for him to use Danny’s true, Russian name. “What did you do?”

“Oh, so it’s always _me_ who has to do something,” Danny retorted, fake offended. “Why don’t you ask what _he_ did?”

“Because I know you,” John replied easily. “And that was the other question.”

“It’s a long story.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Vincent-Benedict was approaching them.

After he’d greeted Dmitri, he turned to Danny. “Ocean. Or is it Tarasov?”

Danny faked his best smile. Next to him, John stilled, and Danny guessed he looked like a predator seizing its prey. He hoped John knew him better than to expect him to start anything, especially when every single one of the world’s most important crime lords was present. “ _Signor Corleone_. My pleasure.” Vincent shook his hand. “This is John Wick. I’m sure you know of each other, but, well,” Danny shrugged. “Etiquette and all that jazz.”

“All that jazz,” Corleone repeated, and shook John’s hand. “Mr. Wick, it’s been a while since you made an appearance around here.”

“Work,” was John’s short response. Corleone didn’t seem offended. Maybe he’d also grown used to John being a man of few words. Danny wasn't sure he'd ever heard of the Corleones being familiar with John, but in the criminal underworld, he wondered if there was anyone who wasn't.

“It seems like I’m quite the assignment.” Danny added. “As you may have heard.”

“Well, I have heard.” Vincent-Benedict said. “And then I play deaf, _si?”_

Danny got his point, and nodded. “Kind of you, Signor Corleone.” He knew that the last thing the Tarasovs needed was to make an enemy out of the Sicilians.

“Well, see you when I see you, Daniel.” Vincent said, before he turned his attention to Dmitri again, and said his goodbyes as well.

-

On their way to Viggo’s office, John asked again. “So, what did you do?”

Danny knew that John would find out even if he lied, so he didn’t, “I robbed three of his casinos.”

“You didn’t.” John deadpanned.

“You could ask him, I don’t think he’d lie to _Baba Yaga._ ”

“You didn’t because if you had, you’d be dead.” John replied, then took advantage of the red light to stare at Danny’s face. “You’re not lying.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Danny said. “And I robbed them all at the same time. Guess he didn’t go around yelling about it. Disappointing.”

John shook his head, and Danny chuckled. “Oh, don’t be like that. He didn’t know about me either, and now that we know, we’ll be careful not to step on each other’s toes.”

“Because that sounds like you.” John replied.

“That _is_ a fair point,” Danny said. Even though sometimes they didn’t see each other for years at a time, John knew him well enough. At least better than he knew Iosef. “Next time, I’ll go after the D’Antonios.”

John’s lack of response meant he didn’t find the joke funny.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
